


Same old me, brand new ...

by Pezzythecat



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: AU, Lonely Eyes, M/M, Peter is an Idiot, Set pre season 1, body hopping, cannon compliant if you squint really hard, elias is a needy bitch, in this house we stan the seacaptin, mag 158 onwards spoliers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-19 04:56:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22172194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pezzythecat/pseuds/Pezzythecat
Summary: “Very droll, that’s why I like you the best Peter, the rest who serve your patron are so boring, and not nearly as nice to look at as I take their money.”What started as a character study for my second favourite lonely boy turned in to a thing because Elias will just not leave me alone.My phone doesn't like tags so...Peter/EliasPost 160Set way before s1Because young Elias and Peter are feeding my soul.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 21
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

Ah. 

He wasn't alone. He should have known. Something felt off as they had docked, something edging along the outside of the realm of his god prodding for cracks in the armour. The call of the forsaken had been strong so he had listened, wrapping himself in it like a warm blanket. 

He stood now in the port. Feet yearning for the gentle rock of the sea beyond the harbour walls. He had no need to leave the Tundra. Yet he found himself walking. Unsure where the empty roads were set to lead him. Following something that spoke to him, maybe it was the one alone? He knew better than to ignore a call like this, even if it meant breaking his isolation. 

There was no sound in a forsaken world louder than the whisper of loneliness. It echoes louder than a shout to untrained ears, the colours muted in a world where nothing has any substance, to be nothing within the Nothing is something few manage, but Peter is on the edge of completion. He feeds off it now, as well as his god. But yet, something calls. A tug he doesn't quite recognise. It's not the burning of the lightless flame scaring and destroying everything it touches. It doesn't wrap around him like a compulsion, as is the webs want, doesn't crush like the weight of too close cannot breathe… it feels strange, but not in an I do not know you way. This is new, but it is also familiar. He follows the tug, he needs to know. Who has found him deep in his own realm? Who would know how to find him other than his own kin? 

  
  


He sees him stood under the pale orange glow of the streetlamp.

An unfamiliar face. But not an unfamiliar presence. 

The forsaken wrapped its creeping tendrils around the figure, testing for a way in. Cocooning the stranger who was not a stranger in its hold. 

It was something felt rather than known when the realisation dawned upon him.

"Magnus." The word fell from his mouth as the strangers face became lit cast in the glow of a lighter being lifted to the cigarette in their mouth. 

The face grinned at him, an unsettling all-knowing beast of a grin. Blond hair hung loosely around a pale sharp face. A young face. 

"You must be Peter." A voice like silk chased back some of the bite of the lonely. Beholding could hold its own against the one alone, and Magnus was at its epicentre. Peter felt more seen than he ever before as the strangers not so strange eyes observed him. 

“Cut the charade.” Peter shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “What do you want Jonah. More precisely what do you want with me? Have my family cut you off?” he almost laughed at the thought. Nathaniel would never cut off his precious institute, Magnus populated the place with so many lost and lonely souls it would be like cutting off the hand that fed them, and they fed well. Money was just a means to an end for the patrons of the lonely, but what was the saying? Knowledge is power? Jonah needs money to get the knowledge, plus the one alone may all be about isolation, but it wasn’t about stupidity and Peter was particularly good at watching, Magnus needed something, something he couldn’t turn to the rest of Peter's family to find. But what?

Jonah Magnus was not the brains he liked to think he was. He needed the other entities just as much as they needed him. So why the new meat suit? The old one had a good few decades left in it, maybe his precious archivist had finally caught on to his shady ways, yanked him out of it with the lack of grace she showed everyone else.

Peter watched as Jonah moved, hovering in his orbit. He could feel the gentle prod of the watcher trying to force its way in so he pulled the forsaken closer like a shield. 

“You going to speak or did you just drag me from my ship to stare at me like some exhibit in a zoo?” 

Jonah paused his relentless circling, looking Peter up and down. He had done that before, with a different face, but not different eyes. James had been pushing it in age when Peter had last seen him, dark hair greying, face beginning to sink with age, the avatars of the watcher didn’t seem to age the same way as the rest of them. So far from the abandonment of the lonely, Peter had been almost twenty-five for what felt like a decade yet he had watched James grow old, it hadn’t suited him. But it was a fresh face that housed the eyes that haunted him in his dreams, the green eyes never changed, nor did the hungry expression that Peter often saw inside them.

He returned the appraising look Jonah gave him, this new model was a head shorter than him, slim build and blond. He must not have had it long, the hair was shoulder length and pulled back in a low knot. No doubt that wouldn't last. Shame, it suited him.

“Do I need a reason to call my favourite seaman?” the voice was different, but it rang with a familiarity that Peter hated to admit he had missed.

“You could have just sent a telegram or used the radio you know like a normal person? I know you know what a telegram is, you probably invented the damn thing.” 

Jonah dropped his cigarette on the floor stamping it out under his trainer. Jonah Magnus in trainers? He really must not have had this body long, it was still showing remnants of its previous occupant.

“Very droll, that’s why I like you the best Peter, the rest who serve your patron are so boring, and not nearly as nice to look at as I take their money.” 

“So you  _ are _ after money?” Peter leant against the lampost, he should have known Jonah was after funding. When wasn’t he? But he was the wrong Lukas for the job, he wanted Nathaniel. 

“No actually, I wanted to see you. I don’t make a habit of standing around shipyards at three am, I’m not that sort of boy.” Peter hated it when they did that, Knew what you were thinking. It was like joining a conversation halfway through. 

“Then what did you want? “

“Like I said, to see you, show you my new body. I thought you might like it.” He turned on the spot. “I know you took a dislike to the advances of a sad old man.” the grin was back, almost predatory as the light cast deep shadows on his face. “So, I found one more to your tastes. My options were limited I will admit, what with my Archivist being how she is, she goes through so many assistants, I was lucky enough to snag this one before she fed him to some substandard ritual.” he reached into his pocket and retrieved another cigarette. “I did him a favour really, these things were going to kill him eventually.”

Peter tried not to stare, but the way that Jonah moved in his new body seemed to almost hypnotise him. 

“I see you approve?”

“I told you before Jonah, I serve the Lonely. I am not interested in what you have to offer.” he knew it was a lie, this new body was picked on purpose, he had seen the man around the Institute, he may have watched the way he moved, how the curves invited his gaze as he hunched over himself, trying to hide the illegal substances he smoked in the ally. His loneliness had called to Peter almost as much as the physical attraction. He knew what one served his cause the best, but he wouldn’t have said no to a little fun before feeding his god. He had already been ousted by the rest of the family for refusing to carry on the Lukas name in any traditional sense but breaking the lonely hold for something as simple as a base level human urge would almost cause him to undo all his years of hard work. 

"That is a shame." Jonah sighed "and here was me thinking that I had picked so well." He stepped forward shoving his hair out of his face, before blowing the smoke from the cigarette into Peter's face. It would linger. Peter knew that was the point. 

"Your determined.” 

“And you elude me.”

“Does it bother you?”

“More than you could possibly know.” The truth was wrapped in that chagrin smile. It was good to know that enigmatic Jonah Magnus could be denied something and that, that something was him. 

“Has anyone denied you anything in the last hundred years?” Peter crossed his arms hand falling upon the whistle that always hung solid against his chest. Something solid that would always ground him, stop him becoming the meal instead of the host. A constant reminder of his reason to exist. 

“Not for long.” he huffed, the fog that followed Peter moved slightly at the drop in Jonah’s carefully constructed persona. The taste of the loneliness permeated the air, so thick that Peter could almost taste it. It filled him with a hunger, its intensity scared him. 

“I told you once. Don’t make me have to keep repeating myself ...or I might just let you feed my own god… and Jonah, you would be a feast.” 

Peter called back the forsaken, no need to keep it so close, for now, he had the upper hand. “Did you really think that something as petty as a pretty face would turn my head? I don’t know what you think you can get from me, but you won’t find whatever you are looking for from me, I should go.” Peter gave what he assumed was a pitying smile, before turning his back to leave “ Go back to your fortress of Knowledge Jonah. I have nothing to give you.”

“It’s, Elias.” 

“It’s… what is ?” He cast a glance over his shoulder the man was sunk in on himself, Peter had never once seen Jonah Magnus look anything but steadfast and confident. The sight of him now did something very unusual to the pit of his stomach. 

“My… My name, It’s Elias, Elias Bouchard.” 

Peter nodded once, turning again.

“Go home Elias Bouchard, I have nothing for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Normally the confines of his office would bring him copious amounts of joy, at least it had always brought the previous body some sort of comfort. The new one had a nervous twitch and liked to pace, he would soon iron that out, but in the meantime, it did nothing to soothe the permanent itch that had irritated him for longer than he cared to remember. 

He had one job, to Know. 

He existed to be a watcher and know, to succeed where other servers to their gods had failed. He sat in his throne of Knowledge and drank it all in, feeding the other powers where he could, creating balance as all good rulers should. 

Yet he felt …

He paced now, getting used to the new body that felt like a badly fitted suit, rubbing in all the wrong places and trying to fight back. 

Elias, that was what he had been called, Peter had taken far too much interest in him the last time he had called in on the family business, it had been an easy choice to use him as his new vessel. The transition from James Writes personal assistant to the interim head of the institute had been swift, and if Elias Bouchard had taken to the new senior management role like second nature, who is anyone to question the ambitious assistant? 

Jonah was not a stupid man, he was aware of the fact that Gertrude was on to something, but as she spent the best part of her days sending her own assistants of on life-threatening acts of heroics she had little time to concentrate on the workings of the institute.

But still, she watched, he knew it was only a matter of time before she would undoubtedly disappoint him. It was a shame she had shown such potential when he had hired her after all the ceaseless watcher needed a competent archive and Gertrude had seemed to be such a good fit for the job. 

She was away now, off on some fools errand, chasing down some flesh monster or ghost of the slaughter, far enough away that the decomposing body of James could be disposed of sooner rather than later. A small part of him was grateful, the smell from the filing room was getting almost too much to bear, the man smelled worse dead than he had when he was alive. No wonder Peter had spurned him, the advances of an old man would never land the way that Jonah wanted them too, and Jonah really wanted them too.

The documents were signed in James’ hand, leaving Elias in charge of the institute in his extended absence he was sick the poor man taking time to recover at home while his assistant ran errands for him in the meantime. The body would be disposed of in the usual manner, Maybe Orsinov could use the skin, it would be a shame for it to go to waste. He poked at the lifeless corpse, eyes removed and slumped at the back of the dusty room, old and haggard, no wonder Peter wanted nothing to do with it.

Peter again, why wouldn’t his mind stay on track, it kept wandering to the sea. To the one thing that could hide away from him, thick fog blocking him off from seeing anything and everything.

Elias. He had to get used to that… Elias, not James… not Jonah...Elias tried to push and pull at the idea of Peter, but nothing filled the void that should be the place in his knowledge Peter existed. He couldn’t find him, and that one thing alone called up that hunger that burned in him. How could he resist his power? How could he block Elias from seeing into the Forsaken when even the web could fall under his gaze with next to no problem. 

  
  


Peter Lukas.

The first time Nathanial had sent Peter in his stead Jonah had not been expecting it. It wasn’t unheard of for the Lukas’s to send a patron about to come of age into the centre of London on errands for the family. The noise and the sheer amount of people in such a compact space was a good test for the followers of The one alone, so many connections, so much physical contact, so much life. Yet Peter seemed to take it in his stride. 

The first thing Jonah had noted was Peter’s physical appearance. Unlike most of the Forsaken who ran on the small and frail side, Peter was an imposing sight, well built with dark hair cropped short to the sides of his head. His eyes darted around the room, watching and taking it all in as he had sat in the waiting area, happily being ignored by all who passed. Large blue eyes cataloguing the intricate interactions between employees, some making the corner of his lips curl at the edges. 

There was no doubting that the man had been sent from the lonely, Jonah could hardly process anything for the fog that tried to shut down his own knowledge as soon as the man had looked up at him with that blasted grin.

It was the grin that had done it. The grin that had sucked him into this mans orbit and not let him rest ever since. 

The Lonely do not smile. Yet Peter had almost blinded him with his as he introduced himself. The man was prime for serving the one alone, it rolled off him in waves, touching everyone in its path. He was strong, and that knowledge spoke to the constant calling of the beholding. It wanted to know more, and so did Jonah.

Yet even then, even before Peter had taken on his full ability, he had been a haze of unknowing, no matter how much Jonah had tried to search out anything that he could about Peter Lukas, the knowledge was just not available to him. Even now when he tried to find Peter he was only noticeable by the space he left, like an unintentional blank page in a book, only noticeable because of what it lacks.

Even last night as he strode out of the fog Elias had been unable to see him until he had wanted him too. 

And that was what made him want him more. The lack of Knowledge, the writing that should be on that blank page… Elias … Jonah ...the beholding wanted to know, just what made up the intricacies of the man it couldn’t read. 

Peter drove him to distraction. 

He shouldn’t find such an obsession in such mundane things as lust, but the way that Peter rejected him just fed into that need to know. 

He wanted to Know Peter, had done since the first time he laid eyes on him. He wanted to know what went on behind the eyes of the only person who had ever been able to block him out. He wanted to feed on the fear that would come from Peter losing control as he edged his way past the forsaken tendrils. He had thought when he reached out to Peter and he had responded to the call that the forsaken was ready to let him be shared, the eye and the lonely went way back, it would only be natural, almost a blessing on both parties if they were to connect. To feed on each other. He had thought as he had looked into the pailing eyes of the lonely that he might breakthrough. But Peter was stronger than he thought and now he just lingered in his mind and the meat suit that stared back at him from the mirror was just a reminder of his own failings.

Elias felt different from James. His skin was freckled where he had stood in the sun, his fingers calloused from cataloguing books,  _ playing the guitar _ the little voice that still belonged to the original inhabitant helpfully provided from somewhere in his knowledge, his stature was short, at least short in comparison to the towering height of Peter, he knew he would use that to his own advantage at some point. He traced the line of tattooed skin that ran down his shoulder blade, looked at the cuts and scars that adorned the body that he would call his own for the forcible future. True he had picked Elias simply to please Peter, but still, he wasn’t disappointed in the curve of his chest or the way his hips jutted out at just the right angle to tempt. For a stoner, Elias had looked after himself and it showed. He turned to view himself better in the mirror, shoulders broad, the curve of the back arched in a way that he knew was considered attractive. He may have gotten this far without actively  _ trying _ to seduce another, Jonah had been a natural back in the day, but times change, maybe this new body would give him the edge the last one had not. After all, Jonah Magnus had founded his institute on his ability to play people, suitors were easy to come by, but times had changed. It was time he changed with them. 

He told himself again and again that this was the reason as he pulled lounge pants on and stared at the reflection in the mirror, but he knew it was more than that, he had chosen Elias just to catch Peter’s eye, it was stupid and shallow but he wasn't beyond such things.

He thought of what this new body would look like pressed tight against Peter’s broad shoulders, entrapped in his arms unable to escape, skin flushed…

He needed to stop thinking about Peter Lukas.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all need to stop thinking about peter lukas to be fair...   
> And you Elias you bastard bastard man.
> 
> Yell at me in the coments stalk me on tumblr ... catch me in the bar having a cold one for my boy elias...


	3. Chapter 3

He woke with a start. Sweat rolled down his face as he sat upright in his bunk flicking on the light that hung above the porthole. 

The familiarity of his quarters did little to calm the unwavering feeling of being watched. 

He tried to call the forsaken to him but it already wrapped around him tightly, whatever this was, it wasn’t something he could hide from in the fog. 

His skin itched, it was as if something had clawed at him; he looked down realising that he had gouged irritated groves into his own skin. Scratch marks across his chest, down the lines of his abdomen… getting to his feet he walked to the small bathroom to look at himself in the shaving mirror, red marks lined his neck, his face red with a flush nothing to do with the presumably self-inflicted wounds.

The feeling of being watched hung over him. No not over him, it was from deep within him. 

He had been dreaming, dreaming of Elias.

Peter didn’t dream, and he especially didn’t dream about servants to other gods. 

Yet he had, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

In his mind’s eye, he could see him, standing in front of the mirror, observing himself, skin still wet from the shower. He could make out even now the intricate tattoo that ran along his collarbone, some Latin script he could not read, yet found himself drawn to none the less. The skin taught over sloping shoulders, curving down along lightly freckled skin, flexing as the owner turned to take in the view of his own body, the towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist. 

He tried to bite back the other images that flashed through his mind as he dug his fingers into the cold steel of the basin. But he could still feel the ghost of the kisses, the fingers gripping on to him with a vice-like hold as Elias clung to him, taking him as his own. 

“Get it together Lukas, it was just a bloody dream” he chastised himself in the mirror reaching out to flick on the shower without looking, trying to ignore the warmth that pooled in him.

As he let the cool water run over him he resolved that at daybreak he would travel down to London, he needed to draw a line under this Magnus business once and for all.

London was cold and wet and miserable and he loved everything about it. As he hovered on the banks of the river watching the comings and goings of the daily commute. He wondered if once he finally comes to full power he could put the lost and lonely of London to work in his patrons ritual, but for now, he was just another face in the crowd.

It had almost been too easy to find Elias, old habits died hard. The man was a creature of habit. Peter isn’t surprised to find him leaning against the stone pillar of the bridge close to the institute cigarette hanging from his mouth huddling from the cold. 

Peter watched as he puffed at his addiction oblivious to Peters gaze as he moved quietly around the old men arguing about the lateness of the forty-seven bus.

Elias looked more put together than last night on the dock, his hair neatly brushed back ( although still long, much to Peter’s relief _oh where had that come from?)_ he wore a dark green button-down under a deep grey suit. It hid his body well if dream Elias was what he really looked like? Peter tried to bury the idea, it was a dream, not reality. Yet he couldn’t help remembering the tight polo shirts that Elias had worn before Magnus took him. Maybe his dream wasn’t all that far off? He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about it but the image of the freckled skin pressed tight against his own pale complexion poked its way back into his mind.

“Peter?”

Elias looked up at him, pushing through the fog that hazed out of existence around him.

He shouldn’t be able to see him, but yet again the fog had shifted and let the man in.

“Elias.” Peter felt the word on his lips as he wandered towards the man in question, shocked with the warmth he had found in the sound of his name.

“I thought you would be halfway across the Atlantic by now.” his eyebrows reacted with amusement letting the carefully guarded expression slip slightly.

“So did I.” Peter had not thought this far ahead. His initial idea had been to observe, find out how or why Elias had appeared in his dreams. However, when faced with the man in question, that thought had quickly disappeared from his mind, replaced with images he would rather forget. 

Without the orange hue of the street lamps, it was easier to read the face of the shorter man, his eyes were even more devastatingly green against his lightly tanned skin, it contrasted his blond hair making him almost look angelic, almost. Elias looked hungry, but in a much different way to the previous night.

“I think we need to talk.” 

“Really?” Elias stumped out his snub under his foot ( the trainers replaced with smart work shoes now) “What’s brought about this sudden change of heart?”

“Nothing we should talk about where anything or anyone might be listening.” Peter inclined his head. “Rather keep it between you and me or at least try too, your boss, after all, they get just about everywhere, don’t they?”

Elias shrugged, nodding away from the institute and along a winding street that leads along the river, Peter falls into step at his side, waiting for the shorter man to speak.

He nods into a small cafe, populated with nothing but the angry waitress and an old man that looks so close to death Peter considers checking to see if any avatars of the end are in the neighbourhood. Elias glares at the man for a moment before he gets up and leaves, Elias following him with his eyes until Peter hears the bell over the door signal its closure.

Two black coffees are placed on the flimsy plastic table between them and Elias hands the waitress a hand full of change before reaching out to scoop sugar into the steaming cup.

“So Talk?” he says after confirming the coffee is to his liking. He has a wicked grin, it rivals Peter's own, but right now all it’s doing is causing that warmth to pool in the pit of his stomach again. Peter tries to form words, but it dies on his tongue, this was a stupid idea, what had he been thinking storming down to London to call Elias out on the fact he had appeared in his dream? It sounded ludicrous even to someone who dealt with the supernatural daily. 

He could feel Elias’s eyes casting over him, he tried his best not to flinch at the attention. Elias was staring at his neck, he automatically moved his hand up to pull his scarf tighter but he knew it was too late, Elias had seen the marks.

“Were you attacked by the hunt after I left or...?” Elias gestured at the marks.

“That was part of what I wanted to see you about, actually.” Best get it over with.

“Oh, really?” Elias placed the coffee back down on the table with a clunk the sound echoed around the empty cafe, only displaced by the voice of the news reporter that fell out of the tiny speaker of the tv behind the counter. 

Peter busied himself scooping three spoons of sugar into his coffee trying to refocus his attention away from the man across the table. The annoying thing was that Peter needed to know… even as a child he had always wanted to know, exploring the far-flung corners of the estate, poking around in rooms that had gone unused for years. There was a power to it. Even when his siblings had been cast out he had wanted to know why. He learned, not through books and knowledge like the man across from him but by learning how things worked watching and observing. He needed to know how Elias had snuck past the wall of the forsaken, even if it were just to stop him from doing it again. He served the one alone not the watcher, but the two were never that far apart in the grand scheme of things. He was so close to becoming what he had been born to be, he would hate to think it could all fall away from him now, just because of Jonah Magnus. 

He could feel the prickling at the back of his mind, he focused on the coffee and let Elias poke in his mind, it would be easier than trying to find the words. He felt the images from the dream pull to the front of his mind dancing as if played on a projector. His eyes cast up to Elias, hands either side of his coffee cup again en route to his lips, his eyes wide as he nodded curtly once before taking a sip. Elias’s grip was tight on the cup. “Interesting.”

“You could say that yes.” the scowl was part of the word and Elias almost recoiled at it, Peter was not an angry man, but even he had his limits. “Since when did you dream hop as well as body hop?” 

“I assume you think I had something to do with your sordid little fantasy?” 

“Don’t you?”

“Would you be vastly annoyed, if I said no?”

“You could say no, but we both know it would be a lie.”

Elias sipped his coffee, not once breaking eye contact. “I’m sorry I absorbed you into my dream, is that what you want me to say?” he didn’t blink it was unnerving. “But I’m not sorry it happened.”

Peter shook his head, trying to shake off some of the feelings of beholding that hung on like a limpet in his mind. “Why did it happen? First the whole calling me to you, now this…” he pointed to his own head.

“Some part of you wants to know more, Peter, and after what I learned last night, I’m willing to let it research all it wants.” there it was again that grin that could cut ice and sink ships and called to Peter in an ungodly way. 

“I told you to leave me alone.”

“I did, you’re the strongest of all the lonely Peter, no matter what your darling uncle thinks, I felt it the first time I saw you, never seen so much life since dear sweet Mordicai. You look like him you know, he too was dark and handsome in his younger days. Nothing on you, of course.” Elias’s gaze fell on someone passing by the window a lazy smile dancing on his face. “You’re strong enough to keep me out, you have done for a long time now. What you have to ask yourself is why did you let me in this time?” 

Peter stared at the swirling black mass in his cup, registering a moment too late that Elias had gotten to his feet. He was too slow when the hand came up to brush his cheek, causing him to jump at the physical sensation of another’s touch. 

He looked up to find Elias gazing down at him his hand electric as his thumb touched the light stubble on Peter’s cheek. 

“I’m always available if you want to put your theory into practice, my door is always open to your family, but i will never close it for you, if you don’t want me to.” Elias withdrew his hand and Peter took all his effort not to follow into the touch as he moved away. “Must go, it’s Wednesday and I have a very important schedule to address. You know where I am, should you need any more information on your research.” and with that, he was gone.

Peter sat staring out the window for longer than he cared to think, the Cafe began to fill around him again as the lunch break rush began, yet they all seemed to avoid him. 

The Waitress came over with a sandwich and a fresh coffee after Peter finally drank the dregs of the one that had been bought by Elias.

“On the house,” she said smiling sweetly at him, she seemed kind but she radiated lonely, “your young man seems rather smitten.” 

“He’s not my young man.” Peter grimaced.

“He seems to have other ideas, and you look like you could do with the company.”

“It’s not right.”

“Nothing much in this world is love.” she patted him on the shoulder, that was twice in one day now someone had invaded his space, he needed to pull himself together. “You seem like a good match, don’t let that one slip away.” and with that, she was gone.

Peter pulled the forsaken around him as he bit into the corned beef sandwich, he needed to take the Tundra far away, as far away as possible.

It was time to gather a crew.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

The only constant when it came to Peter Lukas was the fact that wherever he docked, the Tundra would be registered on port records. He relied on a rotating crew, so on face value Elias knew he needed to keep up appearances. He wasn’t beyond seeing how the boat charted its course, Peter may think he was a free spirit, but Elias knew better. He was a creature of habit even if he didn’t know it himself. Elias didn’t have to use any omnipresent power to work out the route that the good captain would take. 

It had been easy enough to justify a trip to the states, as long as he took statements with him and kept in contact with his archivist he would be fine. Gertrude was currently on some fool's errand on US soil so bridging the gap would not be hard at all, plus with Gertrude halfway around the world, he felt safe leaving his original body unguarded in his seat of power. Who was a threat really? His biggest threat came from within his own god, and well, she was otherwise occupied. 

So Elias Bouchard took a holiday.

The business class seemed rather lush, but he wouldn’t be paying out of his own pocket. What with  _ James _ being on holiday in the sunny state of Florida he just  _ had _ to have his assistant come and see this interesting thing he had found, the champagne tasted good on the Lukas bill. If the air hostess had questions about the long-haired blond man who didn’t fit in, dressed in jeans and a bright green polo shirt that didn’t match the rest of the suits in the upper class, well they didn’t raise them. Not when they tipped well and dished out some rather juicy gossip about the other men who spoke down to them.

Elias may be a lot of things but he was not stupid enough to upset possible avatars of the vast in their own domain. He had mastered many things, but not the inevitable death that would come at hitting the ground from fifty thousand feet at terminal velocity. Any of these people could be a Fairchild, he would hate to get on the wrong side of them.

He knew he would get to the states before Peter, even with a three-day head start, flying would always be faster than a boat, even one helped along by the forsaken. Peter had his ritual, he would have to feed, both himself and his god. That required a certain amount of time, lest the feast realizes their fate.

As he looked down over the Atlantic he could see a bank of fog displaced from the rest of the gentle curve of the world below, he sat back and sipped on his tea, it would be nice to see a well-fed Peter when he arrived. It did put the colour in his cheeks.

Elias tried not to think about Peter as he drove, he had spotted Navy officers as he hired a car, and his mind had wandered. Peter would look very handsome in the decked out colours of a Navy uniform, it was a shame Elias would never get the simple joy of stripping him of one. Now that idea was firmly planted in his mind, not that he disliked the way the man that hunted his every waking moment dressed. The dark blues suited him, the thick wool clung to him in indecent ways. Nobody should have shoulders like that and hide them away from the world, it was a sin as far as Elias was concerned. 

Peter had appeared in two more dreams since the one that had triggered the confrontation, and both times he was overdressed in the most offensive ways. They had talked. It was nowhere as fun. But as much as it had left him frustrated Peter spoke more than he would in the cold light of an awakened state. His voice had a singsong quality to it and he found himself even more drawn to the man. 

Peter was deep in the Forsaken, he had more control in his own domain, yet Elias had been happy to watch him speak, watch the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he laughed. The line of his stubbled neck drew his eye, following the curve to where it joined the muscles of a chest that Elias wanted to explore in reality rather than dreams. 

“Eyes up top, you little voyeur.”

“You can’t blame a starving man a good meal Lukas, it’s just cruelty.”

“Yet, I do. I might not be able to keep you out Bouchard, but it can be on my terms.”

“Are the terms up for negotiation?”

Peter huffed at that, breaking his gaze from the large picture window. It stretched the length of the wall, the view beyond showing a vast space of what Elias knew should be the Lukas estate. But all that could be seen was a strange twisting mass off colours and muted shapes. 

“You’re doing a good job of stopping me seeing, I give you credit.” 

Peter tipped his head watching, her in his own mind the haze that normally accompanied him, buffering his edges, it was missing. Peter was very real and very solid and Elias wanted to reach out and touch him, but Peter had more control here than Elias. That was why it was driving him to despair.

“It must drive you mad, knowing that you can get this far, yet I won’t let you get any further.” Peter’s eyes travelled across Elias, studying him. He could feel the gaze and trace the track of his stare. It hung on his shoulder blade momentarily before moving up to his face. A curious look hung on the sailor's face before he grinned.

“Time to go Elias.” 

  
  
  


Elias woke with a start, the sun glared through the gap in the blinds as the sound of the waves crashed through the open window.

Peter had pushed him out? He must have used some force to do that.

Swinging his feet over the side of the bed he reached for the packet of Marlboro red and sauntered to the balcony, the sun felt warm on his skin as he leaned out over the low railing. Elias’s body apparently liked the sun, it wanted to bask in it like a cat in a sunbeam, something it might take a while to get used to after years of being stuck in that office. 

His mind floated out over the view, taking in the pain and the trauma of the people on the beach below, shallow and empty and many of them carrying trauma that wrapped around them, making him feel hungry. The vast had a strong foothold here under endless blue skies and rolling seas, he could almost taste the longing of the lonely souls who walked the boardwalk, empty happy fake people trying to fit in with other strangers, buried in false images and plastic promises of happiness.

Elias smiled, he could see the blank space in his knowledge that belonged to Peter, it got closer by the second.

The Cigarette kept his hands busy whilst he tried to bite back the frustration of the control that Peter had in his dreams now he was aware. He had replayed the original dream several times in his head, enjoyed the byproduct of such thoughts as he got used to the feel of this new body. So much easier to manipulate in pleasurable ways to the old one. His own hand would not sate the hunger him had gained from his dream. Yet it set Peter to deny him any advances in the world of dreams, however hungrily he had traced the curves of Elias’s body as they talked. 

Elias had seen how Peter had lingered upon the curve of his collar, it was something that lingered in every dream that the two of them shared. The ink intrigued Peter, upon this bodies flesh, Elias shivered at the memory of the feel of sea salt lips upon the skin there in dreams.

He cast his mind to the docks; The Tundra was due to dock soon. He should get dressed. 

  
  
  


He watched from behind tinted lenses as the crew came ashore, one by one they filled off the cargo ship, ignoring the blond that stared up towards the hull he was just another tourist of no interest to the passing bodies aware of their luck at escaping the forsakens wrath.

When he was sure that the vast majority of the crew had disembarked he started his slow jaunt towards the ship.

Peter was easy to find. His guard was dropped, he didn’t expect Elias; he didn’t expect anyone. 

The warmth had forced him to short sleeves, a lot more skin on show than Elias had ever seen before in anywhere but dreams, it threw him, caused him to halt on the spot. Peter had no right to make him lose all track and control of his rational mind like this. Peter had the upper hand and Elias hated everything about it, he had meant to surprise the man, try to catch him off guard, maybe sneak past the wall of the forsaken but he knew he had failed. The small halt had alerted Peter to the presence of the eye and he had pulled up his defences. 

"Afternoon Elias." Peter did not look up from his list until he finished his task. Elias waited, watching until Peter slid the pencil behind his ear and pushed the clipboard in to its docket. 

The short-sleeved shirt shifted showing just a sliver of flesh along the base of Peter's back, the watcher stares filing it for later use. 

"This seems a long way from your precious institute Elias. To what do I owe the honor?"

The forsaken coated every word, it leaked off Peter like a snake uncurling from its prey; he had fed; the colour was in his cheeks, but his eyes were paler than they had been the last time they spoke, almost crystal clear like the hazy fog on a sunny day.

He had taken on his full role as an agent of the one alone. Elias could taste the power. Peter studied him now his eyes bore into him as they faced each other down.

Elias sighed. He was ready for the challenge. But right now trying to fight past Peter at full power seemed like a fool's task, so he settled for a smile.

It threw the sailor. 

"I was due a holiday. Thought I would come and congratulate you on your… transcendence? You're one of the big boys now Peter that deserves a celebration. Something I know your family would rather avoid." 

“Not one to socialise Elias, you know that.” Peter said rocking on his heels, his hands buried deep in his pockets. Peter broke eye contact first, his eyes glancing down to the shorter man's chest. Elias made a point of reaching up and removing his sunglasses, hooking them on to the collar of his shirt, knowing fine well it would pull down the neckline and expose just a tiny part of the tattoo that had gripped the other man's attention so much in his dream. 

“One drink.” Elias stepped closer, determined to use this mild distraction to penetrate the man's isolation. He tried not to stare knowing that the attention would likely send Peter running for his precious ship. 

“This is almost stalking.” Peter grunted.

“It’s only stalking if the other person isn’t aware of it, this is merely me wishing to spend time with someone who I have a burgeoning respect for.” he smiled and to his relief he saw the taller man nod in agreement.

“One drink.” 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's reading my rambles.  
> I love getting comments on my stuff it feeds my little dark soul whenever I see you in my inbox


	5. Chapter 5

Peter didn’t know why he had let Elias talk him into joining him for a drink. It was stupid and reckless, yet he was sure if it was an inherently bad idea some sort of indication would have shown through his god’s influence in the world around him. Yet nothing had happened. The world continued as normal. Well as normal as it could for them.

Peter had fed his god on the journey across the sea, he had finally reached his full potential as a servant of the one alone, yet his mind had wandered to the blond man across from him more times than he cared to admit on the journey. 

Peter did not and could not trust Elias. He was beholding and as such everything was in direct conflict with his own belief. The Lukas family kept themselves to themselves for a reason and yet Magnus had always tried to work his way in somehow. Peter was adamant that this was just yet another of the man’s convoluted plans. However unknowing pricked at his attention. Normally nothing reached him through the numbness and emptiness of the forsaken, his entire life he had wanted for nothing but his own company, finding anything more than that to be too exhausting. He kept his own business between his god and the sea and nobody was allowed past the tightly guarded barrier. Yet, somehow Elias had managed to scale carefully constructed wall of isolation that he had built up around him.

“What do you really want… Elias?” 

“You know what I want. For once I am being completely transparent.”

The man cradled his tumbler in his hand, the ice in his whiskey rhythmically clattering against the glass, his eyes danced with the same unnerving green shimmer that used to stare back at him from James’s face. The eyes suited this face more, the pale skin scattered with sun-kissed freckles, the sharp angles of Elias’s jaw softened by the gentle curve of the sun-bleached blond that hung framing his face. Peter found himself staring at the point where the tips glanced across the man’s exposed collar bone, he was finding it harder to remind himself that this was intentional on Elias’s part, he had cherry-picked parts of a dream, one that he had no right to have entered in the first place and taken the information to make a fool of him.

Yet the whiskey tastes good on his tongue and the talk was easy, it always had been even when Elias was James. The man rambled on now about his distaste for his current archivist, how she refused to give over to the call of their god, remaining human, remaining a constant thorn in his side.

He remembered James coming to the house for meetings with the same gripe on his tongue and a harder set face. Fairchild was always in tow, that annoying whistle that echoed around him jarring on Peter's last nerve. The world was easy when you knew the answers and Magnus knew the answers, he saw everything buried away as the linchpin in that stupid contraption of his. Yet he kept his hand close to his chest no matter how much he and his archivist meddled in things they didn’t deserve to. James had propositioned him that night, that had been the first time. A sad old man sniffing around him just as he was due to leave for the sea. They may age differently under the blessing of their gods but the advances of a man physically pushing his sixties did nothing for him. It had been the first of many rebuttals that had been pushed in the direction of James. But the man had always been an interesting one. 

Putting it simply the man was an utter bastard. In the most tantalising way. He played people almost as confidently as The Mother, his moves set up to take the board long before most people were even aware that they were playing the game. Peter felt that he was being set up for a sudden takedown of his queen, when he was playing backgammon not chess. But to point that out now would no doubt cause that smirk to twist up on the side of Elias’s pretty little face and he couldn’t stand even the thought of it. And it was a pretty face, an exquisite thing, he wasn’t a proud man when it came to such things, the body of Elias Bouchard was tantalising to his eyes. The image of it now sat in the smooth warm light of a setting sun toned and tanned and ever so lonely it was driving him to distraction.

The dimming light of the sun danced across the table causing tiny rainbows to flicker on the surfaces around Elias’s tumbler, his whisky drained he tried to flag down a waiter to order another. They seemed to ignore him, walking right past the two men sitting in the dying rays of the light out on their balcony. It took longer than it should have for Elias to realise what was happening,(or to be more accurate, what wasn't) but when he did he placed a slender hand on Peter's forearm tipping his head to the side with a raised eyebrow and an amused look on his face. Peter did not go to move his arm away.

“Peter, really a man will die of thirst if you don’t stop playing hide and seek with the serving staff,”

“You are not a man Elias, you and I are monsters, that’s what makes it interesting.”

“How do you get anything done, Monster or otherwise, when you can’t even get a damn drink?” 

Peter laughed placing his free hand over the one Elias had placed on his arm and holding the warmth in place with a cold touch of his own palm, he smiled and got to his feet. Elias trapped in his hold followed.

“You do things for yourself. You want a drink Mr Bouchard? Then we shall get you a drink,” he pulled Elias through the bar, it had begun to fill around them now, the lonely wrapped around the two of them in a cocoon. They dipped between couples,friends and business meetings until they were close enough to the bar to read the labels on the expensive top row. Under his hand and against the skin of his arm Elias’s flesh burned against the cold as he flexed his fingers, his green eyes darting from the connection to the glass bottles behind the counter. 

Peter leaned over helping himself to the very expensive looking bottle. He already missed the warmth of Elias’s hand under his fingers. When he turned to show it to Elias the man looked impressed.

“The good captain knows his booze I see.”

“I just know what I like.”

“See anything else you like?” Elias actually blushed at that, Peter didn’t think the smug bastard knew how too.

“Listen, I’m not saying anything that would stand up in any court, but maybe we should get out of here, too many people and I have a reputation to uphold.”

Elias nodded, letting Peter lead them towards the door.

  
  


Elias didn’t drop his hand from his arm, they drank straight from the bottle as they walked along the boardwalk all the nightlife filling the air around them but happening entirely outside their own little bubble. Peter had never managed to keep someone else inside the Lonely for so long without them dropping into that dead-eyed stare of depression that anyone on his crew seemed to permanently wear. The fact that Elias’s eyes glowed with his knowledge even in the dim lamplight that surrounded them caused the blood in Peter's veins to pump just a little faster. All instincts told him not to trust someone who could hold his own in the forsaken yet this was not trust that seemed to twist in his chest.

He had told himself several times since Elias had collared him on that dock on the other side of the Atlantic that he would not fall for the tricks of the eye. That he would not give in to the temptation that sat in front of him on a golden plate. Yet the tiny sliver of tattoo that poked over the shorter man’s collar, the way his hair teased at the curve of his chin, the way he looked like he would crumble if Peter were so much as to slip his hand into his… the temptation to submit to Jonah Magnus was growing stronger with every second he spent with Elias Bouchard. 

Their feet seemed to move of their own accord and soon the bright lights of the Broadwalk had disappeared almost as fast as the contents of the bottle they shared. 

They talked, Elias waxing lyrical about the way the dawn of the information technology age was making it easier for him to know more than ever from the constant and relative safety of the institute, how soon he would be able to find the answers to most things with just the touch of a button. He demonstrated by pushing the call button on the lift that Peter hadn’t even realised they had walked to. 

“Just imagine, one button… that’s all I would need.” Elias’s eyes were like saucers when Peter looked down at him. The shorter man's face tipped up to see him better in the dull lamplight by the lift.

“ Sound’s Lonely.” Peter tried to look away but he couldn’t, he could feel the Loneliness curling off Elias now in waves, he wasn’t hungry, but the taste of him was thick in the air. 

“Maybe I like being Lonely,” Elias muttered as he pressed the almost empty bottle to his lips never dropping his gaze from Peter’s own.

“You like this? You like walking alongside me in this empty existence?” Peter didn’t believe him, the loneliness was something that took a long time to embrace, yet Elias seemed to still burn warm where the parts of him pressed against Peter, space where the Beholding and the Forsaken blurred around the edges. He was holding his side against the one alone and that made the pull of him all the greater. Elias rocked on his feet, fidgeting with each sway. Something bubbling under the surface still present even in this dullness, Peter wished he would stand still, each touch was like a burn when he moved in his space. Elias opened his mouth as if to speak then took another drink from the bottle, when it proved to be empty he looked at it in disdain. When he finally spoke his voice was steady. “You make the knowledge go away, just for a little while, do you know how hard it is to see everything? To never turn it off? For the last few hours, there has been nothing but the blissful numbness of your God Peter… and you, a constant source of fascination for a mind that is for once, only my own.” The lift clunked open behind him Elias did not turn to look at it, his eyes determinedly locked on Peters own, the green piercing the grey.

“What do you want, Elias?” Peter couldn’t break the gaze. “Here, in my domain, tell me the truth.” his hand moving of its own volition to hold Elias still to calm the man’s irritating tick, placing it on the smaller man's shoulder he felt that heat again drawing him closer. 

“I’ve told you, Peter, I just want-.” Peter cut him off. Elias buckling under the pressure of Peter pulling him towards him. Peter hungrily sought out the taste of the loneliness on Elias's lips, expensive whiskey and cheap tobacco greeted him. The shattering of the bottle became background noise as it tumbled from Elias’s hand his knees caving under the sudden onslaught. A million different sets of emotions rushed through him, emotions and feelings that Peter was sure could not come from him. He was Forsaken, destined to forever feel alone and isolated. Yet as he pushed back against Elias’s hungry lips he could feel the burning sensation of wanting to Know bubbling away in the forefront of his mind. Elias was trying to show him in more ways than one that he meant what he said. To suddenly feel anything after countless years of nothingness pushed him deeper into the sensation, his hands reaching to find purchase on Elias’s lithe body as he wrapped his fingers in Peter's hair, gripped on like a lifeline to Peter's neck, pressing up as if trying to save himself from drowning. Peter didn’t want this, he told himself as he lifted Elias from the ground and pressing him against the warm concrete pillar scrambling to make contact wherever his hands could find flesh to explore. Elias returned the action in kind, his nimble hands tugging at his skin as he traced the curves of peters shoulders, dragging his fingertips over sea-worn skin. 

Images filled Peter’s mind now, his body moving in gentle motion against the wriggling gasping tanned limbs of the man in his arms, whispered words and grunted moans filling the air fading into something else … something darker. Glimpses of iron cells, deep green carpets, a million visions of a million things crashing and tearing at the inside of his mind, and in the centre Elias. Alone. Terrified.

The exact second Elias broke the kiss the coldness filled every inch of Peter, that warmth that came from the beholding leaving as soon as the connection was severed. Elias looked confused reaching up to touch his kiss bruised lip. “That was …”

“The word you’re looking for is strange…” Peter supplied, his eyes drawn to the way Elias hovered now, uncertainty on his face. It had been strange, he shouldn’t want more, but like everything that involved Elias Bouchard, Peter was starting to feel like strange was now just part of whatever this was. 

“Did you mean to push me away like that?” Elias questioned looking every bit as confused as Peter felt. 

“Did you mean to push all that beholding bullshit into my brain?” Peter shot back, trying to push down the way his body wanted to move towards Elias, craving whatever had just passed between the two of them. He had no recollection at all of actively pushing Elias away. Elias stepped closer his hand moving to cup Peter's face, he didn’t fight against the impulse to lean into it even if everything that belonged to the Forsaken pulled him away. “I have no idea how you deal with that noise.” Peter sought out the green eyes he knew were gazing up at him. 

“How do you survive without feeling anything?” Elias said by way of answer, his fingers warm against Peter's cheek, he could feel that warmth beginning to spread through him again, “Never thought about it, never had to feel anything.” 

“Sounds lonely.”

“That's the general idea yes.” Peter could feel the forsaken fighting against the fingers that ran now over the nape of his neck.

“How did it feel?”

“Don’t start that beholding crap on me…” but Peter knew there was no power behind the question just Elias and his own curiosity. “... it felt ...a lot, you really go on with that in your mind all the time? No wonder the lonely calls to you.” Peter reached up now slowly wrapping his fingers around the slim ones that caressed his face wrapping them in with his own. 

“Peter?” Elias asked quietly as Peter raised his hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles before dropping his hold. Peter watched as Elias chased the contact.

“One step at a time Elias.” he stepped back avoiding the remnants of broken glass. “I'm’ not that kind of man.” 

“No, but you could be that sort of monster.” Elias shrunk in on himself but his bright eyes lost none of their sparkle. 

Peter Lukas very rarely used his real laugh, and the sound of it was foreign even to his own ears, yet the effect it had on the blond watching him now made him vow to use it more in his presence, anything to feel something so overwhelming and know he could sink back into The One Alone's waiting arms.

Whatever Elias Bouchard wanted, The ceaseless watcher wanted nothing to do with it, and that made the man even more lonely, and he was afraid. It tasted divine. 

“Breakfast, I'll meet you here at eight. Don’t be late.” he made a point to not turn around as he disappeared from Elias’s sight.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, it's not a celebration until someone breaks something right?
> 
> comments are always welcome, in fact, I actively encourage that sort of debauchery  
> kudos to make me happy.  
> not as much as blue balling Elias does though so you know... that's your benchmark in the comment section

**Author's Note:**

> Scream at me on tumblr same name.  
> I have more second chapters Elias based . If you want it let me know  
> Feed the comment section upset your local lonely avatar.  
> Curse my very existence...  
> Draw a picture of a cat...  
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
